


The Future's In Our Hands

by Artemis1000



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Established Relationship, Fenders Wintersend 2020, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22225744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/pseuds/Artemis1000
Summary: The trust to let themselves be weak together was just one of the many things they still had to work through on their way to becoming... whatever it was they were becoming now. Something new and exciting and on most days only mildly terrifying.When Fenris comes down sick from bad potions, it is up to Anders to help him recover. This is but one small step to building athem- but all great things are built out of many tiny steps.
Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 61





	The Future's In Our Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [protect_him](https://archiveofourown.org/users/protect_him/gifts).



"...and I'm telling you, I'm fine! It’s just an upset stomach!"

The look Anders gave him was somewhere between fond and fondly incredulous. Which was admittedly quite the change from where they stood just a couple of months ago but it didn’t do much to make Fenris' current stubbornness any less frustrating.

"Are you telling me that fetching shade of green is your normal complexion?" Anders pointed out with some of their old gleeful smugness at having scored a point in their arguments.

Fenris glowered at him but then he clutched his stomach and made a pained noise, and that was really all there needed to be said anymore in their grand debate.

"Lay down. I'll make you a cup of tea to help you detox and then we will see to the rest, if you will permit it."

Anders decided it had to be a sign of just how miserable Fenris was feeling that he agreed without so much as another grumble.

He left with a last lingering look, knowing Fenris wouldn't appreciate his fussing but still reluctant to leave him by himself. Neither of them had had many opportunities to get fussed over in the past. In principle, Anders believed there was nothing wrong with permitting yourself the indulgence. In reality, Fenris had his pride and caution both, and Anders couldn’t claim he would be any less stubborn if their roles were reversed. Fenris still didn’t feel comfortable admitting to vulnerability, let alone letting anyone witness his weakness. He would rather retreat in these moments and snarl at anyone who dared approach, always expecting to have his weakness preyed on.

The trust to let themselves be weak together was just one of the many things they still had to work through on their way to becoming... whatever it was they were becoming now. Something new and exciting and on most days only mildly terrifying.

By the time he returned, Fenris was asleep, though his sleep was anything but peaceful and probably not very restful either. He kept twisting and turning, the covers long since kicked off. His skin glistened with sweat.

Sighing in dismay at the miserable sight, Anders perched on the edge of the bed and ran a damp handkerchief over his face. It was stiff and cold, having been frosted with just the tiniest hint of an ice spell. Soon his fingers took the place of the cloth, tracing the lines of the frown Fenris wore even in sleep and quietly, Anders marveled at the sheer overwhelming affection that surged up in him as he studied Fenris' sleeping face.

Still asleep, Fenris leaned into the touch, mumbling something which Anders decided was probably, “mage,” but might as well have been nothing but sleepy nonsense.

They had come such a long way indeed.

"Fenris." His voice was soft, his touch gentle as he shook him awake. "I’m sorry, I would love to let you sleep but potion poisoning is nothing to scoff at. If we want to heal this without magic we have to act before you get worse."

It had been such an absurd accident, too. Fenris buying from a merchant he didn't know since his regular had run afoul Carta trouble, then having to down a second bottle before the side effects of the first kicked in. At least his companions had caught on quickly and gotten him to empty out his stomach before the bad potions could do more damage but he had been a sorry sight by the time they dragged him back to Kirkwall and called for Anders.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, mage?" Fenris grumbled without heat while he obediently sipped on the bitter tea. He was scowling but didn’t meet his eyes. "Where is the gloating that this wouldn't have happened if you had been there to heal me with magic? I thought you would be first in line."

Anders frowned slightly, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap where they kneaded the thawed handkerchief. He wasn’t. Mere months ago, Anders would have had a field day. Of course, mere months ago, he would have long since been chased out of the mansion.

"I guess I just don't enjoy seeing you in pain."

Fenris eyed him, brows furrowed again as if Anders was some grand puzzle which he sought to figure out, and it was all Anders could do not to flush like an apprentice under his scrutiny.

In the end, Fenris just gave a small huff and thrust the empty mug at Anders’ chest. “That was disgusting.”

Anders’ lips twitched as he accepted the cup and put it down on the floor. “Worse than the mystery stew at the Hanged Man?”

Fenris sank back onto the pillows, eyes closing again. The tension in his face betrayed that he was still in pain. “Maybe not quite as disgusting.”

“It would be difficult to top that.”

Fenris dozed in silence and Anders kept quiet as well, content enough to enjoy his company while they were at peace. They still argued more often than not, though no longer with the same viciousness as in the past.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be, mage?” Fenris finally asked, his voice low and a little slurred as if he was halfway to falling back asleep. “No clinic to run? No Gallows to storm today?” His attempt at sounding scathing fell short when his quip ended on a pained wince.

“Not today, no,” he responded smoothly, ignoring the sense of impatience running through him which he knew to be Justice’s. Yes, there were many things he needed to do but all of them could wait until tomorrow. “I think I’ll just stay here and gloat a little longer,” he added wryly.

Fenris’ laughter was weak and vaguely pained but it still left Anders feeling warmed and softened, the urgency to be elsewhere easily shoved to the back of his mind. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

“You know me too well.”

“I would hope so.”

Silence reigned once more.

Anders’ fingers returned to their gentle caresses. Fenris was still burning up but that was to be expected. With some luck, it would just take more tea and an unpleasant night for him to recover.

“May I check on you now, with magic?” he asked quietly once the medicinal tea had been given long enough to kick in.

Fenris remained quiet for long moments, long enough that Anders wondered if he had waited too long and Fenris had fallen asleep. Finally, there was the smallest nod.

He folded back the blankets and placed his hand over Fenris’ stomach, slowly feeding an ever-increasing stream of magic into Fenris.

Fenris grunted in annoyance, eyes opening a slit. “Stop tiptoeing. Just get it over with. I won’t bite off your head.”

“Of course you wouldn’t! You like my head. It comes with a very handsome face.”

“Useless.”

Anders chuckled. The magic cut off but his hand lingered for a moment longer before he pulled the blankets up to Fenris’ chin again, which earned him another disgruntled look. Both unable and unwilling to help himself, he rewarded it with an infuriatingly blithe smile.

“You’ll be happy to hear there was no serious damage done. You will be okay with some rest and pampering. Think you want to brave some elfroot to speed it up?”

Accompanied by a groan, Fenris shook his head. “I don’t think I can stomach elfroot again anytime soon.”

He nodded. “Very well. Then sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s time for another cup of tea.”

“You’re fussing. I let you come in under the condition of no fussing.”

“That’s when you claimed you weren’t sick and I was humoring you,” Anders responded with that obnoxious cheerfulness of which Fenris very well knew he could amp it up to weapons-grade if his hand was forced.

The elf squinted at him and opened his mouth before he snapped it shut again, grumbling something under his breath. “At least lay down and _sleep_. You don’t talk when you’re asleep.”

Anders’ too bright smile didn’t even waver, even as his heart skipped a beat. “If you wanted to get me into bed with you, you just had to ask!”

That earned him another huff and some more grumbling, even as he watched the tips of Fenris’ ears turn red. “Get into bed and shut up, mage.”

Anders complied.

Well. He complied halfway.

After dousing the candles, he slipped under the covers, keeping as much distance as the bed would permit, still hesitant of his welcome underneath all the swagger and bluster. He tried to excuse it with Fenris being hot enough from the fever without additional body heat.

The elf rolled onto his side, not truly curling into him but getting just close enough that his knees brushed against Anders’ leg.

His breath caught in his throat. There was nothing romantic or arousing about this moment and if he could have chosen, he would have certainly come up with a dozen better circumstances under which to first share Fenris’ bed. Yet there was something heart-wrenchingly intimate to Fenris letting him see him like this, his face and body unguarded as he finally let himself drift off into sleep.

Something in Anders’ heart unclenched as he watched his face and breath even out.

They had a very long way to go still. But they were walking this path and at least for tonight, it felt as if they were truly walking it together.


End file.
